You choose to stay in and rest. It’s going to be a long night, after all, even if you’re not sure what it’s going to be a long night of. You don’t do this very often anymore. Come to think of it, you don’t do much of anything anymore. You’ve had the same job since the day you left this dorm. LONGER, even, if you count the two summers interning. What’re you going to say to your old friends, anyway? There is one real purpose of these damn reunions — at ANY reunion — and it is the simple question, “what’s new?” And as you stare up at a chink in the ceiling tiles, you feel the meaning of true horror, an abject, unadulterated terror at what you’ve become. Yet what horrifies you the most is that this never bothered you before right now. That you’ve not only done nothing, but you haven’t even realized how little you’ve done…
Outside, the wind strips the last few leaves, blood red, from the trees. They snap and slap at the window, screaming for attention over the howling winds. It’s darker than it should be. You haven’t fallen asleep, have you? Or is it just the clouds, low and thick, hanging ominously over the campus?
Homecoming of Horrors 